Chapter 26
Adramal’s voice deserted her. Running seemed the best option, but Marik would surely strike her with a spell before she could get out of range.
Marik came closer. “Well?”
“Forgive me, Mas-Most Holy,” she croaked. Her throat seemed to be full of sand. “I was just about to leave the city.”
He scowled. “That wasn’t what I asked.” He snatched the slate Tagahra had given her. “What does this say?”
“I... I don’t know, Most Holy.”
“Horseshit,” said Marik.
A tall watchman approached from the far end of the stable. “Greetings, Most Holy. May I be of assistance?”
“What does this say?” asked Marik, thrusting the slate at him.
The man studied the slate as if it was a puzzle. “It’s an order for the Duty Sergeant of the stables, Most Holy — that’s me — from Captain Tagahra. He wants me to detail a rider to take the bearer, named as Karil, to the village of Darund-Kerak.”
Adramal tensed. But if Marik thought it odd that she’d changed her name since he last saw her, he gave no sign of it.
To Adramal, Marik said, “When did you join the Watch?”
“I... I didn’t.” At least, she thought she hadn’t. Tagahra hadn’t said anything about it. Wouldn’t there have been some sort of ceremony? At the very least, an oath to swear?
Marik turned to the Duty Sergeant. “Then why is your Captain telling you to carry this woman around at the citizens’ expense?”
“I don’t know, Most Holy. Officers don’t explain the reasons for their orders.”
Marik asked Adramal, “Why does Tagahra want you taken to that ghastly place?”
She swallowed and licked her lips. “I don’t believe I’m allowed to tell you.”
Marik stepped back, blinking in surprise. “You ought to know better than to try my patience, wizard.”
Now the Duty Sergeant looked surprised. “You’re a wizard? Forgive me, Lady — I had no idea.” He bowed clumsily.
“Go and find your Captain,” Marik snapped. “I want to get to the bottom of this.”
The Duty Sergeant read the slate again, following the words with his finger, as though wanting to be sure of every detail. “Forgive me, Most Holy. It would be improper to keep the lady waiting. And it would be a serious breach of discipline for me to be untimely in obeying an order.”
For a moment, Marik stared at him, and Adramal feared the priest would use his magic against the man. Then he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Enough! It’s not as if I have nothing better to do.” He stomped up the staircase that led to the rest of the building.
Once Marik was out of sight, the Duty Sergeant whispered, “I’m sorry about that, Lady. I don’t mind priests normally, but that fellow was External Inquisition.” He said the last two words as though he wanted to spit afterwards.
She shuddered at the memories. “I know. I’ve met him before. He said he never wanted to see me again, and the feeling’s entirely mutual.”
The journey out of the city was much less nerve-wracking than the one in. She asked the rider to leave her a mile outside the village; she didn’t fancy explaining to the villagers why the Watch were bringing her here.
She passed only a few people on the road. She guessed some were at Celebration in the city, the rest working in the fields. A glance at the sun told her it was an hour after noon — three hours later than she’d expected to arrive. She hoped there wouldn’t be too much work for her.
On the way to her house, she met a few more people, all of whom greeted her as if she’d been gone half a year instead of half a fortnight. She turned the corner of the street where her house stood and bumped into the back of someone. She began to apologise, and noticed that this person was at the end of a queue that stretched all the way to her door. She hurried past them to the house, not wanting to think how many of them there were. Thirty? Fifty? A hundred?
Behind her, voices spoke — “That’s her,” “She made my cousin walk again,” “I thought she’d be older,” “Why do they call her the Barefoot Healer?” The people began to cheer, but their noise died as she pushed her door open.
A man stood in the middle of the house, silhouetted by the light from the windows. She yelped.
“Adramal,” the man said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Chavaen! What are you doing here?”
“Making sure none of your patients tries to jump the queue.” He smiled. “Your fame is spreading. Some of these people have walked for days to get here.”
“Yes, well, some of them are going to jump the queue, because my time here is limited. I’m going to assess each of them quickly and treat the most serious cases first.”
“Oh. Does that mean you’re not going to be able to treat everybody?”
She sighed. “I’m afraid so. Incidentally, if you want to stop people queue-jumping, shouldn’t you be standing outside, where you can see them?”
Startled, he stepped away. “Yes — of course.”
As he turned, she added, “I’ll need someone to take me back to Kyturil. They lock the gates at sunset.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll do it. If we set off halfway through third watch, we should get there in time.”
They went outside, and Adramal explained what she was going to do. She picked out the ten people whom she thought most needed her help. Some people grumbled about it, particularly those who had been near the front of the queue, but everyone she asked to move did so.
She treated patients as quickly as she could. She lost count after five or six. Around the start of third watch, Chavaen came in with a plate of food. He sat on the floor while she ate. The meal was a struggle, though she had to replenish the strength that her magic was using.
“So how are you getting on?” said Chavaen.
“Mmm?”
“At the school, I mean.”
“Oh. All right, I suppose. I’m learning a lot.” Just not what I thought I would.
“Apprenticeships are normally seven years, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but I did nearly five years at Thuren before coming here.”
“So you’ll finish in... two years and a bit?” He looked pleased with himself for working that out.
She nodded and yawned.
“I — we — can’t wait that long.”
Her mouth went dry. She set the plate on the floor. “I don’t recall making any promises about being in Darund-Kerak at any particular time.”
He leaned back, blinking. “But this is your home now. You can’t just walk away from us. We need you.”
If she hadn’t been so tired, she might have stood up and left then. She sighed. “You coped without me before I came here. Two fortnights ago, no one in this village even knew I existed.”
Chavaen looked down, his brow furrowed.
“Perhaps you should send in the next patient,” Adramal said. He left, and she closed her eyes, trying to relax.
“Healer? Lady Adramal?”
Jolted, Adramal opened her eyes to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She had her arm around an older woman who was bent over and coughing weakly. Adramal treated the old woman for fluid in the lungs. Three more patients followed. Then a young man entered, a bandage around his neck. He moved carefully, as though afraid his head might fall off.
“This morning,” he said. “I slipped and fell on a nail that was sticking out of a plank.” His voice was breathless, and no wonder — the bandage was too tight. She took a pair of scissors and cut the fabric. A spell could have done the same, but she had to conserve her power. She touched the side of his neck and cast a spell to ease the pain. Her head ached with the effort. Perhaps she should have followed Lorgrim’s methods and brewed a big pot of willow-bark tea.
“That’s better,” the man said, rubbing his throat.
The nail had pierced the back of his neck, about an inch to the left of his spine. Blood still oozed from the wound, and an egg-sized bruise surrounded it.
“Did the nail come out of the front of your neck?” Adramal said.
“No.”
“Do you know how deep it went?”
He held his finger and thumb about three inches apart.
“Have you coughed up any blood?”
“No.”
She moved in front of him and bent down to put her ear next to his mouth. “Breath in, please.” He did, and she listened carefully to the sound. “Breath out.” Warm air brushed her cheek, reminding her of Perinar’s caresses. She quivered in anticipation of returning to his embrace. Be here now. “In again. And out.”
She stood up and stretched. “You’ve been lucky. I don’t think the nail hit anything important.”
He frowned. “I heard you see inside people’s bodies with your hands.”
“I can, after a fashion,” she said. “I can perceive the general shapes, but not fine detail. Bones are easier than flesh.” She took a few deep breaths to prepare herself for the next spell. “I’ll seal the wound to stop it going septic, and then you can go.”
She dipped the bandage in a bowl of water and cleaned the blood from the wound. “This might sting.” She put her index and middle fingers over the wound and released her spell. “There.” The bruise faded. When she lifted her fingers, a white dot remained where the wound had been. She stared at this for several heartbeats.
“Of course,” she muttered. “That’s how he did it. I’m such an idiot.”
Concerned, the man turned to look at her. “Is something wrong?”
She gasped. “Just — remembered something I have to do later.” She smiled nervously. “You can go now. Rest until — until Yisea’s Day.”
“Thank you, Healer.” He bowed and left.
That was how who did what? said Lelsarin.
The door opened again. “Give me a few minutes, please,” said Adramal. “I need to rest.” She sat down cross-legged on the floor and closed her eyes. She took several slow, deep breaths. Within her mind, Lelsarin fidgeted.
Adramal said, I mean, it’s how the murderer killed his victims without the cause of death being apparent. At any other time, she would have jumped in the air and whooped with joy for having worked it out. As it was, she could barely keep her head upright. He had a knife with a long, thin blade. He slid it into the victim’s neck between two vertebrae, severing the spinal cord. Then as the victim lay dying, he healed the hole in the skin so the wound looked old.
Clever, said Lelsarin. And with most of the victims, their hair would cover the wound anyway. Hold on, though — the gaps between vertebrae are very small. How did he hit the right spot through three inches of muscle?
Maybe he’s better at sensing bones than I am, said Adramal. Or maybe that’s what the spell on the knife is for — to guide him to the right spot. But this time, he didn’t hit the right spot — not first time, anyway.
How do you know?
That was how the piece of bone got chipped off.
He’s really stretching the definition of ‘not killing with magic,’ isn’t he? said Lelsarin. But if you’re right, that explains why there aren’t any holes in the world around here. Still doesn’t explain the symbol, though.
Maybe the symbol is just there to hide the residues of the other spells, said Adramal.
Why does he need to do that?
I don’t know. Why does the symbol upset you so much?
I don’t know. But this gives us a way to solve the crime.
Oh yes? said Adramal.
Find the knife and there’s a good chance you find the killer.
How do you propose I get into the teachers’ towers to search for it?
Maybe you won’t need to, said Lelsarin. Maybe it’ll give Tagahra enough of an excuse to search Kyturil himself.
We can hope.
Anyway, hadn’t you better see who’s at the door?
“You can come in now,” Adramal called. The door opened to reveal Chavaen.
“I’ve come to take you to Kyturil.”
“Already?” said Adramal, though she was glad of the chance to depart. “Give me a few minutes to get ready. And tell whoever’s still waiting that I have to leave, please.”
Chavaen left. Adramal wrote a message for Captain Tagahra, explaining her theory about how the murderer had killed his victims. She wrapped the slate in bandages for privacy, and then gathered her other possessions and went outside.
Daylight was uncomfortably bright after so many hours indoors. Chavaen stood there, together with his mother Deverana. A good many of the would-be patients gave Adramal dirty looks as the queue dispersed. Who could blame them after waiting so long? But if she tried another spell today, she’d fall asleep before she could complete it.
Adramal handed the message to Deverana, saying, “Would you see that this is delivered to Drakhshaf and Speph in the city, please? Tell them I sent it, and it’s for Narahund.”
“What is it?” said Deverana.
“Something that’ll turn you into a tree if you open it without the proper precautions.”
Deverana held it out to her, plainly wanting nothing to do with it.
“It’s perfectly safe as long as you don’t try to remove the bandages,” said Adramal, pushing it back towards Deverana.
“Very well,” said Deverana.
“One other thing,” Adramal said. “I won’t be coming here on All Gods’ Day.”
“What?” said Deverana, gesturing in the direction of some of the departing patients. “How much longer must these people wait for healing?”
“I’m sorry,” said Adramal. “I need to get a draft from the bank to pay for my next fortnight’s tuition. I won’t have time to do that and come here.”
“One of us could get this draft for you,” said Deverana.
Adramal yawned and shook her head. “They’ll only give it to me.”
Chavaen rolled his eyes. “Let’s go. I’ll have to mistreat the horse if we delay any longer.”
Adramal followed him to the stable at the side of the inn. She dozed off almost as soon as she was settled on the horse’s back. The next thing she knew, she was pulled awake by a man’s voice wanting to know her business at Kyturil. She opened her eyes to see the doorman standing on the bridge over the moat.
“Don’t you recognise me?” she mumbled. “Apprentice Adramal?” Everywhere lay in deep shadow, but the gate was still open. Chavaen had got her here on time.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” the doorman said, coming closer. “Are you hurt? Shall I send for Rakbanorath?”
“I just need to lie down.”
“Of course, Mistress. Let me help you dismount.” He did so with delicate precision, and then helped her to hobble over the bridge.
She looked over her shoulder and waved weakly to Chavaen. “You can go now. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” He turned his horse around and nudged it to canter along the path.
Perinar came out of the gatehouse. “Adramal!” He hurried towards her. “Gods, you look dreadful.”
“I don’t feel much better,” she said. “I need to go to my room.”
Perinar put an arm around her waist and draped her arm over his shoulder. Before they had gone more than a few paces, the purge took her. Pain shredded her, as if her flesh was being hacked from her bones with a blunt axe. Fear devoured her mind — fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of hurting those who relied on her. Her mouth locked open in a soundless scream.